


Flowers in Her Hair

by JulyStorms



Series: Petruo Week: December 2014 [5]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2802554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulyStorms/pseuds/JulyStorms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had always imagined his family there: brothers lined up between his parents in the front row, his mom crying and blowing her nose into a hanky, his dad smiling. He’d imagined Petra’s dad there, too, on the other side. He’d walk in with Petra, of course. Petra would look beautiful in a long dress, flowers in her hands and on her dress. But they had none of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers in Her Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Petruo Week Day #5: Tradition
> 
> Oh no my small Auruo headcanon makes an appearance, and I’m also a huge disgusting sap. (As an aside, this was poorly poorfread, so if you notice any mistakes, please feel free to point them out.)

Tradition had always meant something to Auruo. Where you came from made up who you were, and he supposed that somewhere way deep down in the depths of his being, he’d chosen the Survey Corps because he wanted to get that back for himself. For everyone, really.

He wanted to see and be a part of and understand the places his parents’ parents’ parents came from, wanted to know more than _part_ of a language and oddball customs. It was something lost to him, something he knew had once been a part of the world, but the existence of which he had no substantial proof of.

Where had he come from? Who was he? Who was his family? Yes, he had a name—a surname, even—but what did they mean beyond the superficial definitive meanings? Things were missing and would always be missing, but maybe he could get them back. Maybe he could reclaim that history, somehow. Maybe he could wipe out all the titans and even if the old traditions couldn’t be restored… Well, maybe they could make new ones that would be around for hundreds or thousands of years.

* * *

 

Even so, it bothered him to stand in a church with Petra. It bothered him because nothing at all about it was right, was ideal, was what he had pictured.

He had always imagined his family there: brothers lined up between his parents in the front row, his mom crying and blowing her nose into a hanky, his dad smiling.

He’d imagined Petra’s dad there, too, on the other side. He’d walk in with Petra, of course, and he couldn’t help but probably cry himself a bit, ‘cause Petra would look beautiful in that long white dress, flowers in her hands and on her dress and preferably everywhere, because she deserved the best wedding that had ever been had.

But they had none of that.

There was no family. Levi stood awkwardly off to one side; it had taken everything in Auruo’s power to ask him.

“We need witnesses,” he’d explained, lamely. Levi had agreed after staring at him for a moment, and Auruo wondered if the other man could tell that his presence _meant_ something to him. Meant a lot. They only needed two witnesses, but Gunther and Eld had come, too. Eld grinned like the jackass he was, and Gunther smiled like the ceremony was real and not some rushed kind of bullshit.

Nanaba was supposed to come for Petra’s sake. A female presence or something; Auruo didn’t pretend to understand the need for that.

They were all in uniform.

He hated it. Hated that their wedding was going to be shit because he couldn’t make it better.

“You know I can’t give you what you deserve,” he’d said.

“Stupid!” had been her immediate and bubbly-laughter-ridden reply. “You want to marry me. I think that means you like me.”

“Geez, Petra, you’re a genius, y’know that?”

“Hey.” Her elbow had caught his rib with a gentle prod. “Being with you—that’s plenty.”

He believed her. He had no choice but to believe her. She was beautiful and smart and funny and naggy as hell and he loved her so much he had to believe that she was telling the truth.

He was enough. _He was enough_.

Still, the church was dim, and it was quiet, and the waiting—for Nanaba, for whatever reason—was almost torture. What kind of service was this, anyway? What kind of wedding was it when they couldn’t have their families there to help them celebrate? Why were they even getting married, anyway?

He wanted it, of course, wanted it more than _anything_. Petra marrying _him_ : _Jesus_ , he’d wanted that since he’d been a pre-teen.

But was it worth it to have it like this? Was it worth bein’ married if his mom couldn’t cry in the front pew and Petra’s dad couldn’t see his little girl wearing a pretty dress?

Shit, he thought. They were wearing their uniforms—even their harnesses.

Was it worth it? He just wanted to do it right, because doing things right by Petra was all he’d ever wanted. All he’d ever _want_ —for the rest of his life. Maybe that was a goddamn sign. She wanted to marry him.

Had _agreed_ to marry him.

For whatever reason.

For whatever silly Petra-y reason existed that would make a beautiful woman like her want to marry a scrawny doofus like him.

She probably wanted to nag him into an early grave. Auruo Bossard, R.I.P. Lived his life in eternal naggery (and loved every single second of it).

The sound of boots on the church floor made him look up from his hands, which were joined with Petra’s and felt sweaty. This was all wrong, he thought. Sweaty hands, empty little church, no parents in the pews, no walking down the aisle, everyone in uniform, Nanaba’s stupid big feet making a ruckus.

She was out of breath and sweating.

Another strike, really.

“Hey,” she said after a moment.

“’Bout time you got here,” he grumped. “We’ve been waiting for twenty years.”

“Twenty minutes,” Petra corrected.

“Twenty long minutes,” he said.

Nanaba sighed, but waved a hand at him. Her other hand remained behind her back, like she was keeping a big ass secret. “Close your eyes,” she said, and stared at Auruo. “You. Come on, hurry up.”

He closed his eyes, but not without scowling at her like she’d ruined his entire day by existing. He hardly even knew her: she worked under Mike, and Mike was weird: that meant that Nanaba was weird, too. As weird as her name—not that he had any room to talk.

There was a long pause, and then she said, “All right.”

He opened his eyes and right in front of him was Petra. She looked the same: her hair was still down, and she was still in uniform. But she had a crown of flowers on her head. It was ridiculous. The whole stupid thing was ridiculous.

He had no idea why he was smiling at her like an idiot.

“What do you think?” Petra asked.

“It was Nifa’s idea,” Nanaba said. “Since we don’t have a veil, it’s the next best thing.”

“Nifa’s a genius,” was what came out of his mouth. The yellow and orange and red flowers looked perfect—suited Petra so well he didn’t even know what to do. He reached out and touched the stupid flower crown like he was adjusting it, fixing it—as if Nanaba’d put it on wrong or something. “Looks great, nag.”

“You lovebirds ready?” Eld asked from behind Auruo.

Auruo rolled his eyes and sighed like it was the dumbest question he’d ever heard. “Guess so, now that we’ve got the flowers.”

“Hmm, gee,” Gunther said, looking thoughtful, hand on his chin like he was actually thinking real thoughts. “I think we’re missing something.”

“Hmm, yeah,” Eld agreed.

“The two of you are crazy,” Auruo told them both.

Petra grinned. “I know what’s missing,” she said.

“Yeah?” Auruo asked. “What’s that?”

“Getting walked down the aisle by a couple of charming squadmates, I think.”

Auruo blinked, wished her dad was there to do that for her, wondered for a moment if she’d regret marrying him like this later. “Thought you didn’t care ‘bout that?” he asked, hesitantly.

“I don’t,” she said, “but I decided this morning that it’d be kind of nice—don’t you think?”

She smiled up at him and he couldn’t help but shrug—couldn’t help but turn her to face the other two men. “Well, why not,” he said.

“Well,” Gunther said, holding out an arm.

Eld came to the other side and held his out. “Let’s do that, then.”

The guy who was supposed to marry them just stood there and smiled like it was all part of some master plan.

Auruo watched Nanaba flash a smile at Petra as Petra left, flanked by Eld and Gunther. The large double doors closed behind them.

There was a moment of silence.

Then, almost innocently, Nanaba put her hand to her mouth to cover a smile. “Gosh,” she said. “There’s just one more thing missing.”

“And what the everloving fu—er… What the heck’s missin’ _now_ besides the _obvious_?”

Levi spoke for the first time since entering the church; somehow he’d made his way back to the doors. “People,” was all he said.

And then he opened the doors.

If Auruo had thought Nanaba’s boots were loud against the floor, it was nothing compared to the flood of boots into the church that greeted him the moment Levi opened the doors. A mass of bodies pushed into the building and filed into the pews until the stupid little church was so fuckin’ full that Auruo couldn’t even see the back wall for all the people standing against it.

“What the _fuck_?” he found himself asking. He didn’t even bother to slap an embarrassed hand over his mouth.

Nanaba put a hand on his arm. “Hey,” she said. “It’s not a wedding without friends to cheer you on, right?”

Auruo had no idea why it was that he wanted to fucking cry. He was pathetic, sometimes.

But then a few people moved to the front holding instruments. Someone had a pipe, and he saw Henning with his lute, and there was a newer recruit he didn’t know who gripped a worn-looking violin. They stood together and smiled at him and then they started to play a song like they’d been fuckin’ rehearsing it all week and the church grew quiet and still and then the doors opened again to reveal Petra, flanked by Eld and Gunther.

Nothing had changed about Petra. She still wore her uniform, and the flowers were still on her head, but she was beaming at him like he was the best thing she’d ever seen in her life and it made his chest swell up and his ribs ache and it took her about a hundred years too long to get down the aisle.

Eld and Gunther hugged him when they got there—hugged him and hugged Petra and laughed. Everyone else laughed, too, as the music stopped, as he scowled his way through the hugs even though they meant more to him than he’d ever fucking admit. Goddammit: he had no idea how it was he’d come to care so much about these people.

The service continued without much fanfare. They didn’t have rings, but he supposed it didn’t matter, anyway. They were missing a lot of things.

When it was over, when he leaned down to kiss Petra in front of what seemed like the entire Survey Corps, he said, so only she could hear: “I fuckin’ love you, nag.”

Unfortunately it was drowned out by obnoxious whistling from the middle of the gathering, and one particular voice shouting, “Eyy, kiss her right, Boss! She’s your wife, now!”

It was Gelgar, of course. What a piece of shit.

“I hate that guy,” he grumbled to himself.

Petra smiled at him. “No you don’t,” she said, and, before he could even think about it, she grabbed his cravat and yanked him down for a kiss. By the time she pulled away looking triumphant, his mind was spinning and he was grinning like a complete dumbass.

As an added perk, it shut Gelgar up. When he spotted the other man’s dumb face in the group he was giving him a stupid fucking thumbs-up.

Yeah, he hated that guy.

Hated every single person there for cheering and flooding out of the church behind them when they left, hated them for dragging them back to Headquarters where some soldiers had stayed behind to make sure a special lunch was ready for everyone by the time they got back.

Hated Hange for grinning and slapping his back, hated Gelgar for reminding him that he couldn’t get drunk on his wedding day (though that jackass had made sure there was plenty of alcohol for everyone), hated Eld for laughing every five seconds, hated Nanaba for her stupid watery eyes, hated Mike for telling him that he smelled _happy_ —what the _fuck_ did that even _mean_ , anyway?!

He hated everyone for making him fucking _feel_.

There was a toast in the mess hall, thanks to that jackass, Gelgar, who made a toast just to propose that Auruo make a toast.

“I fuckin’ hate all of you,” was what Auruo said. And then, at Petra’s horrified expression, he couldn’t help but laugh: “Hah—! Nah, you’re all great. Except you,” he said, looking right at Gelgar. “You’re a piece of shit.”

 But he didn’t sound pissed off enough or something, so Gelgar just laughed and then everyone was grinning and eating and carrying on and the idiots with instruments started playing and demanded that dancing commence. Tables were pushed aside and Auruo didn’t know much about dancing but Petra was beaming at him again and he decided it wouldn’t hurt to try.

So he danced with her and then other people were dancing and people left to go back on duty and came in who had just gotten off duty and the entire afternoon passed so quickly he almost didn’t realize how late it was.

When he and Petra excused themselves, he fully expected at least one stupid comment, but nobody said anything. Not even Gelgar. The other guy just lifted a hand and gave the first genuine smile Auruo had ever seen from him.

“I still hate that guy,” Auruo said.

Petra rolled her eyes at him and pulled him toward what was now _their_ room.

* * *

 

“What’d you think of our wedding?” she asked him, flopped onto the bed on her stomach, feet kicking in the air.

“Did you plan that shit?”

“Sort of,” she admitted, and grinned at him. She was wearing his shirt and she had that flower crown back on her head. “I know it wasn’t what you _really_ wanted, but…I thought maybe the next best thing… Nanaba took my small idea and ran away with it; I hadn’t planned to invite basically everyone. I just thought it might be nice to have a few people there…”

“Hey, nag,” he said, sitting next to her and touching the now-wilting flower petal that brushed against the top of her ear.

“Yeah?” She pulled her knees up under her so that she was sitting.

“Nothin’. I just wanted to call you that. I can do that now, y’know. My naggy wife Petra. Has a nice ring to it, huh?”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “That’s not an answer to my question, Auruo.”

“Hm.” He laid down and felt her settle against him, her head tucked against his shoulder. “How’d I feel ‘bout the wedding?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Did you like it? Too much? You don’t regret it, do you?”

“The hell?” he asked. “Of course I don’t regret it! I just—I fuckin’—“ He plucked her lopsided flower crown from her head and set it on the nightstand next to him. “It was…”

He had to think about it again.

His original expectation for a wedding. The wedding he thought they were going to have to have. And then all those stupid soldiers flooding into the church to fuckin’…cheer them on or whatever.

“It was great, okay? It was—nice. Yeah. I just—I wanted you to have a perfect wedding with the nice dress and the flowers and everything.”

“I had flowers,” she reminded him.

“But not everything,” he said.

“Sure I did,” she said, and put an arm around him, pulling him into some weird kinda Petra hug.

“No you didn’t.”

“Auruo,” she said, voice half-muffled as she squeezed the hell out of him: “I’m not—we’re not marrying our families, you know? We’re just—it’s us. It’s about us. You and me. We’re marrying each other. It’d have been nice to have my dad there and your parents and all your cute brothers, but it’s okay that they couldn’t come. It’s _okay_. Today was great because we got married.”

He hadn’t really thought of it that way. “I guess that makes sense,” he admitted. “We’re the ones that matter, here.”

“Yeah. A wedding’s nice, but it’s for the people getting married more than anyone. And we can’t—you know we can’t just wait until we have time and money to have a real wedding.”

He didn’t like to think about that. “I know, nag.” He didn’t want to wait until he was too late. He loved her so fuckin’ much—the thought of not marrying her while he could… It had hurt just to think about, just to consider. He refused to fuckin’ wait forever for something he could have right now.

“So,” Petra continued, and pulled back just to touch his face, just to smooth her fingers over his forehead, his cheek, “I had the flowers and _everything_. Because you’re everything, stupid.”

He hated that her words made him want to cry, and at the same time, made him want to do something. “God,” he said, “that’s sappy as hell.”

And then, a moment later:

“I fuckin’ love you, you know that, nag?”

She pinched his cheek and laughed. “Wow, Auruo,” she said in a very bad imitation of him: “I hope so, since you married me and all.”


End file.
